


i could touch a hundred thousand souls (you’re the only one i’ll ever know)

by thinkbucket



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Prompt Fic, Secret Relationship, royal au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24996148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkbucket/pseuds/thinkbucket
Summary: “Ooooh, now that is a man I can get behind. Or under. Not picky,” Jaskier swoons next to her, but the princess’ eyes have been otherwise captivated by the breathtaking woman that has just entered the room.Her body rivals the most perfect sculpture, finer than any that reside in the vast halls of the palace, and her face looks like it was carved by the most exquisite artist. For a brief moment, Yennefer has forgotten what breathing is; this living work of art before her has stolen the air straight from her lungs.“Her. That’s the one.”*The Royal AU
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 68
Kudos: 157





	1. oh, my blood once was my own

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eileniessa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eileniessa/gifts).



> i started taking prompts over on tumblr and uh. imma just say now that they're not all gonna be this long ok, this one just got really out of hand and i even made a moodboard for it and i was really thinking 1k max oops. hopefully only 2/3 chapters, we shall see. this was Eileniessa's request
> 
> prompt: Royal AU + Secret Relationship + “Kiss me while everyone’s looking.”
> 
> title (and chapter titles) taken from Anyone Else by PVRIS

*

“Well, _she_ certainly looks like a good time,” Jaskier is nodding in the direction of a woman as they stand together, observing the attendees of the solstice banquet with casual interest. Her face is pretty enough, but Yennefer finds the overly embellished puke and mustard colored dress nullifies any sort of beauty she might possess. 

“She’s not half bad looking, I suppose. If you’re into tapestries,” she remarks and looks away, continuing to scan the spacious ballroom.

There’s a game that they play at these loathsome banquets. It’s known as _who can bag a better bedmate for the evening_ , and it occasionally devolves into them warring for the affections of the unfortunate (or rather, very fortunate, when Yennefer wins) man or woman. The idea, initially, was that they would set their sights on their chosen prize and declare their intent, and one will observe as the other pursues. However, neither Yennefer nor Jaskier are known to be nice or play fair, and they may at times attempt to thwart their opponent’s plans. 

“Ooooh, now _that_ is a man I can get behind. Or under. Not picky,” Jaskier swoons next to her, but the princess’ eyes have been otherwise captivated by the breathtaking woman that has just entered the room. 

Her body rivals the most perfect sculpture, finer than any that reside in the vast halls of the palace, and her face looks like it was carved by the most exquisite artist. For a brief moment, Yennefer has forgotten what breathing is; this living work of art before her has stolen the air straight from her lungs. 

“Her. That’s the one.” Perhaps she shouldn’t sound quite so breathless. Jaskier will surely mock her. She doesn’t care.

He follows her line of sight. “She’s old enough to be your mother!”

Fuck this man, honestly, and definitely not literally. “And you act young enough for me to be _your_ mother. What of it?”

“Well, disregarding _that_ comment, I’ll concede that she is one of the finer specimens in this room, and she certainly has good taste,” Jaskier says appraisingly, as he glances over her dress. It’d _better_ be her dress.

“And I’m willing to wager she’d taste even better,” Yennefer subconsciously bites down on her lip. She turns a stern eye upon her companion. “Do not dare try and take this one from me,” she warns him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Your Highness.”

*

She works her way closer, gradually. 

She ducks a few swinging arms of the livelier dancers, but she makes it through the ballroom without much incident. 

These banquets often bring a variety of guests through. It is not so very uncommon to have not seen a face. What is uncommon is the comfortability and grace that this woman emanates, as if she belongs here. Her face is stern, but she talks and moves with an ease that would convince Yennefer that she’s spent years in this very palace.

She is near enough now that she is within earshot of her conversation with the Duke of Roggeveen, barely heard over the noise of buoyant music and conversation. It seems that the princess is not the only one vying for this mystery woman’s hand tonight. She swallows down a snarl. There will be more evenings throughout the course of this banquet. She can be patient.

“I beg my pardon, Duke,” she can hear the woman’s voice saying, “but it seems we are now in the presence of her Highness, we should not occupy ourselves with such base topics.” She has not only spotted Yennefer, but has addressed her. Yennefer tries not to be so disappointed with the thought that this woman might not be interested in discussions of a more base nature with her, and instead balances it out with the delight that she has not had to take the first step in introductions. 

Who is she kidding? Anyone would be tripping over their feet to impress the heiress of Vengerberg. 

“Please do not stop talk of suchtopics on my account, I am intrigued,” Yennefer says by way of greeting as the duke startles and spins around. He has the decency to look embarrassed and quickly excuses himself. 

“Tissaia de Vries, Countess of Aretuza, at your service, your Highness,” the woman introduces herself as she curtsies before Yennefer. Heavens, this woman’s voice makes Yennefer want to lay down and listen to it forever. When she goes to sleep, when she wakes, when she takes her tea, Yennefer wants to hear it in every waking moment. “It is an honor to meet you in person. And I must thank you for your presence, I was worried I would not be able to be rid of that man so easily.” 

“The honor is selfishly mine, Countess de Vries,” Yennefer says. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you here in Vengerberg. What brings you here from Aretuza? Surely there are adequate solstice festivities occurring in Thanedd?”

“Is witnessing the beauty of the renowned Princess of Vengerberg for myself not enough of a reason?” The countess says with a quirk of the lips that is not quite a smile.

And oh, this is a game that Yennefer can absolutely play. Her work here may not be as difficult as she first thought.

Yennefer replies with a sly smile, “Perhaps it is, though I’d have to confide that there is _so_ much more to Vengerberg than meets the eye, as there is to its princess.” 

A voice chimes in, “Indeed, Vengerberg is host to a great many hidden treasures. Some bigger than others,” and Yennefer is going to murder him, there will be blood spilt tonight.

“May I introduce the court fool,” Yennefer says as the man bows. She was beginning to regret this. If Jaskier fucked this up for her, she’d make sure he’d never live to see another banquet. 

Jaskier straightens immediately and frowns. “Har har, Princess. Everyone knows fools are no longer in vogue.”

“Perhaps I missed that, or you play the part so convincingly,” Countess de Vries quips. And oh, Yennefer _really_ likes her. This woman has sharp words and even sharper cheekbones and Yennefer is compelled to know more.

Jaskier adopts an affronted expression, and Yennefer amends herself, if only to appear like she has manners, “My friend, Jaskier, Prince of Lettenhove.”

The musicians have struck up a new tune. This is her cue. “My lady, may I have this dance?” Yennefer asks with an extended hand.

The countess doesn’t bat an eyelash as she places her hand in Yennefer’s.

*

They spend most of the evening in each others’ company. 

Yennefer takes on a few more dancing partners, entertains light conversation, but always gravitates back to the countess.

Tissaia is even more fascinating upon further inspection. The woman’s footwork is precise. Her demeanor is completely unreadable. She has a dry humor and witty jokes but never laughs; she is largely standoffish but not unfriendly. She entertains Yennefer’s flirting, and perhaps even responds with a few cryptic remarks of her own, but the princess cannot be completely sure. 

The hour is late. Guests have begun to trickle out. The musicians wind down, a calmer melody floats out the open doors to where Tissaia and Yennefer stand out on a balcony overlooking the gardens. 

Now is typically when she invites her companions to accompany her to her bedchambers. And that’s when the magic happens.

“It has become quite late, my lady. Perchance you would like to escort me to my rooms?”

Tissaia frowns imperceptibly. “Your Highness, as flattered as I am, I am afraid I am going to have to decline.”

Yennefer is taken aback. Did she hear her right? Has she misread the entire evening? She had been interested as well, had she not? Yennefer might be a bit rash, but she was not a fool. 

“Would you really deny me?” Yennefer steps closer now, close enough to see the flecks in her eyes, the subtle hitch of breath in her breast. It could be that the lady is only putting up a slight resistance so as not to seem so easy.

“You certainly are bold, Princess, but you are right. It is late, and I should retire.” Tissaia moves to leave but Yennefer is quicker, grabbing hold of her arm to prevent her. 

“Fine, I relent, but please do not go,” Yennefer pleads. She lays her other hand upon the woman’s shoulder, nudging her to encourage her to turn back to face her.

The countess sighs but relaxes in her grip, turning to face the taller woman. “What more do you require of me, Your Highness?”

“Your company,” Yennefer says simply.

An elegant arch of the eyebrow, as though doubting the princess’ intentions. Which, she’ll grant, is not wholly unwarranted given her reputation. But she _is_ capable of behaving. It’s not as though it’s unheard of. Rare? Perhaps. Impossible? Of course not.

Tissaia will need to put that goddamn eyebrow back where it belongs first, though, because it is _doing_ things to Yennefer.

“Tell me why you’ve come to Vengerberg,” Yennefer tries. 

It is the wrong move. 

“My reasons for being here are my own,” the woman says tersely, standing rigidly once again. 

So she _is_ here for a reason, moreover one that she does not want to disclose. Yennefer has already upset her, and so she will not push her luck on this. “You are right, and you are entitled to that. Forgive my prying,” she attempts to remedy her misstep with a light praise, “I can only thank fate that our paths have crossed tonight, for I have never laid eyes on a woman more beautiful than you.”

Tissaia’s eyes snap up to Yennefer’s; her brow furrows slightly. She looks confused, and she stares into Yennefer, as though trying to determine how serious she is and just how much of this is simply the princess trying to get under her skirts. A few beats pass, and Yennefer takes advantage of the stillness by raising a hand to slowly trace along from the woman’s cheek to her perfect jaw. “Your Highness,” Tissaia says in a soft, shaky voice, “I could very well be out of a title if you pursue this further.” 

This, Yennefer does not understand. She has slept with a multitude of men and women alike, married, widowed, betrothed, single - all the same. Her trysts are not a secret, and in fact most count it an honor to have shared a night with the Crown Princess of Vengerberg.

“You are surely mistaken. I do not see how this would do anything but bolster your status,” Yennefer can’t help but grin. It could be considered conceited, if it were anything but the truth.

Tisaaia scoffs, then tilts her chin up slightly in a look of defiance. “Respectfully, I do not need to explain myself to you, your Highness.”

“But tell me that you do not want me,” Yennefer whispers as she takes her hand. Fuck discretion and ambiguity. She is forward, always has been. If one desires a direct answer, they must ask a direct question.

Tissaia yanks her hand out of the princess’ grasp. “I do not want you.”

And she walks away, leaving a stunned and spurned Yennefer in her wake. 

*

The next day, Jaskier saunters up to Yennefer as she lounges in the parlor, boasting a few bites and bruises upon his neck. 

“Well, I certainly had a good night,” the prince starts.

“Shove it somewhere someone else cares, Jask,” Yennefer grumbles as she flips a page from the book she is reading. She is not actually reading. She is just internally fuming, the book is a cover up for her bad mood. Only, it’s doing a poor job of covering it up.

Jaskier gives an exaggerated gasp before he flops down next to Yennefer, who stubbornly refuses to move her legs out of his space. She hopes he is uncomfortable. “Was the Countess of Aretuza that disappointing? Must say I’m not too shocked. Was it her inflexibility? Did she complain about her joints the whole time?”

“She denied me.”

Jaskier is struck dumb for a moment. A small comfort, knowing he is just as shocked as she was.

“How? _Why_? Does she not believe the legends?” And she should be thankful that Jaskier is only doing his best to cheer her up, but she can’t muster up the energy to have this conversation. Not while she’s still brooding. She slams her book closed and rises. 

“I do not know, but I will not give up. The banquet has only begun, and so has this game.”

*


	2. but in one touch you made it yours

*

  
  


The second day of the banquet passes in a blur of frilled dresses and fitted coats. There are the usual few admirers who attempt to win Yennefer’s affections for the day, but for once she is wholly uninterested. The only one she wants is Tissaia. And so she looks for her.

But the Countess has done a decent job of eluding her sight so far today. The servants have seen her about, but every time Yennefer follows a lead, she is too late. Feels a whole fucking lot like hide and seek, and she is losing on her own turf. The woman knows how to hide. 

Yennefer rarely has to chase. It’s usually the opposite for her, people will seek her out, all she has to do is choose. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know _how_.

*

There are a few guests milling about in the room as she walks into the parlor, but after letting them pay their respects, Yennefer breezes past them.

“Countess de Vries, what a surprise, running into you,” Yennefer says cheerfully as she approaches the lady standing at the tall window and wonders if Tissaia knows just how damn hard it was to find her. 

“You certainly are tenacious.”

Right. 

Well. If she’s upset that Yennefer hasn’t given up yet, she’s not going to apologize. But she can make it up to her in other ways. She joins her in watching the goings on of the festivities outside.

“One of my many gifts,” the princess says, turning to look at Tissaia with a wink. 

“One that could lead you into trouble if you aren’t cautious,” Tissaia replies in a frigid tone as she stares hard back.

Gone is the amicable and charming woman from the night before, replaced with a cold and cruel one. Is it strange that Yennefer finds her even more beautiful when she’s afraid she could be turned to ice by her eyes alone?

She finds her voice again after a moment. “I’ve never met a trouble I couldn’t outsmart.”

A crease forms between Tissaia’s eyebrows, and another down at the corner of her lips. “That’s because you are the Crown Princess. Trouble never quite sticks to you as it does to the rest of us.”

And wow, is she actually going to bring her title into this? Because there is more to Yennefer than her crown. She’s had her own fair share of struggles; her life hasn’t been _all_ banquets and conquests.

But Tissaia is already backtracking, bowing her head downward. “Forgive me, your Highness. I forgot my place and misspoke.”

“No, do go on. Tell me what it is you think of me,” Yennefer cocks her head, curiously, quelling her indignation now.

“It is not my place.”

“I am giving you permission to speak freely now, as a friend and not a subject,” Yennefer says, and she’s not quite whispering, but she lowers her voice to a tone that will not be so easily overheard. And never mind that their friendship is less than a day old, but surely that has to count for something. Yennefer never uses the term so easily.

Tissaia draws in a breath before speaking. It comes out carefully, as though each word is being measured with a stick, “You are the heiress of Vengerberg. Save treason, your status is irrevocable.” There is a pause, but Yennefer waits. “I am an unwed woman who has to work to keep my title and estate. I will never know your struggles, and you will never understand mine.”

“You’ve never been married?” 

Something about this strikes her. It’s not that being single is such a tragic thing. But it is unheard of, especially for a woman of status, as the Countess. Marriage is a given, even if love and fidelity are not. 

“I have not,” Tissaia affirms.

“Why?” Yennefer asks dumbly. And shit, she just sounds a bit nosy and stupid now, which isn’t helping her case here. The big dumb princess, pretty, but innefectual anywhere outside of her own bed. “I mean,” Yennefer corrects herself, “It’s just that, that’s...different,” she finishes lamely. She has to bite her cheek to stop herself from saying anymore, she’s an idiot as it is. She doesn’t know what to say to that. _Good for you_? _Congratulations_? _I’d rather not get married myself, but I’m a princess, it kind of comes with the job_? 

The smallest, wryest of smiles. “I’ve never had the desire to stand in a man’s shadow.” 

“That’s,” Yennefer starts off, and then she snaps her mouth shut. Because Tissaia is right, their experiences are not the same. Yennefer will never be in anyone’s shadow, no matter who she marries. But that is a privilege mostly granted her due to her status, not merely her attitude. Her own mother had remarried after her father’s untimely death, but everyone in the kingdom knows that ultimately the Queen holds the real power, which cannot be said for most women that remarry. “A fair point.” And before she can stop herself, she continues, “But it still does not explain why you cannot sleep with me.” She should stop, she really should, but Yennefer has never really known how, and now seems a bad time to start. Not with such a woman as this before her. Perhaps after, she can try to learn. 

Tissaia is pursing her lips, though it seems more amused than annoyed. “Ever relentless in your pursuits, aren’t you, Your Highness?”

“You haven’t seen the half of it, my lady,” Yennefer concurs, as she dares a step forward.

Tissaia places a hand against Yennefer’s chest, gently, halting her before she can come any closer, and Yennefer can feel her own heart thudding against it, knows that Tissaia can too. It was a misstep on her part, because now Tissaia is looking at Yennefer’s chest, is feeling her heartbeat, like it can almost convey how much Yennefer wants her.

“There are too many eyes, Your Highness,” she warns.

“What will they do, tell on me to the King?” This has never been a concern. She’s fucked people in broad daylight before. But if the Countess is against such activities, no problem, Yennefer can adjust.

“No, but they could tell on _me_ , and there are a few individuals who would not hesitate to use anything to blemish my character and discredit me. And then I could lose everything.”

Fuck, now it all actually _makes sense,_ though it shouldn’t. It _shouldn’t_ be this way, that an unmarried woman should worry about how her every step is perceived, all because she could lose her title. But she knows it’s true, knows how petty some nobles can be, clamoring over each other, not hesitating to throw one to the dogs if it meant they could get a leg up.

Shit. 

Yennefer steps back. 

“Countess de Vries?” A voice rings out, and they both turn to see the servant at the door. “Your audience with the King has been granted. Please follow me.”

Audience with the King? “You’re going to speak with my step-father?” Yennefer has so many questions.

But Tissaia only curtsies before she follows the servant out, and leaves behind a dumbstruck Yennefer once again.

  
  


*

  
  


The Palace of Vengerberg can host many people. Too many. And as hard as it was to find her the first time, it seems it may be impossible to get the Countess of Aretuza alone again.

But not every princess has a Prince Jaskier. And as much of an ass he can be, he is also by far one of the most useful assets in her acquaintance. 

He’s somehow not only managed to find Tissaia by early evening, but also to convince the lady that if she’s looking for some peace and quiet during this banquet, the library is certainly the place for it. And promptly informed Yennefer of her whereabouts. 

“Keep an eye out,” Yennefer instructs. “Knock thrice if someone approaches.” She slips into the library and closes the door behind her. The only other occupant of the rather spacious room has noticed her entry.

“Princess Yennefer,” Countess de Vries dips into a graceful bow. “How may I serve you?” She knows very well how she can serve her, but Yennefer dares not say this aloud, lest she spook the woman away.

“I am looking for a book,” she lies, “Perhaps you can help me?”

The _look_ that the countess levels Yennefer with is enough to make her shudder. She smiles instead. 

“I can try my best to assist you, though I can’t help but imagine you’d know your own library better than I.”

“Oh, no,” she chuckles. “I was thinking more along the lines of a recommendation. I’m in need of a book on the agricultural history of Temeria. Can’t seem to recall which of these volumes that information would be hiding in.”

The countess narrows her eyes, but appears to humor her anyway. She turns and skims a delicate hand along the gilded spines. “Perhaps one of these then?” She withdraws a book from a shelf.

“Perfect,” Yennefer breathes out behind her.

“Your Highness,” Tissaia says sternly, but when Yennefer presses up against her, she can feel the woman breathing; unsteady. 

“Tell me again you do not want me.”

“If someone walks in, I am ruined.” It is not a denial.

“I’ve guarded the door. Jaskier will knock if anyone nears. Just tell me, do you truly not want me as much as I want you?”

Tissaia turns around then, and fuck, the look in her eyes is enough to send heat directly to Yennefer’s core. “I do not know what it is about you, but I cannot get enough of it,” she says then. 

That is good, it’s more than good enough for Yennefer. She brings her head closer to Tissaia’s, touching, slow enough to give her time to back up or to push her away, but she doesn’t, and they stand there, foreheads touching and her eyes drift shut. And then Tissaia crushes their lips together.

Yennefer reacts immediately, and surely this can’t be real, but it is, it is, because she can feel Tissaia’s heart _hammering_ against her own, as she drags her close, book fallen forgotten on the ground. 

And gods, it’s messy, it’s wet, it’s fucking delicious. 

Yennefer urges her back so she can pin her against the bookcase, swallow up Tissaia’s gasp whole and whimper quietly into her mouth in return. 

She tastes _exquisite_. She feels like a bird that will surely take flight at any moment, even as Yennefer holds her tight. Tissaia grips her back as though she’s afraid this isn’t real - as if it will end any second - and she bites down on Yennefer's lip, and it stings so good. Yennefer moans quietly in response.

She almost doesn’t hear the knock. Her blood is pounding in her ears, it was easy to miss. But Tissaia proves to be more alert than she, and shoves her away at the sound. Tissaia doesn't even look disheveled for the briefest of moments. Yennefer is positively aching with the need to wreck her perfect composure. How the hell does the woman look so collected? Yennefer is falling apart inside after only a kiss. 

She rights herself, and retrieves her book from the floor, even as she eyes Tissaia. The only thing that gives her away is a heavier than normal breathing. 

The door opens, and Jaskier enters and feigns shock. “Princess, oh, and my Lady! Hello. Have you found what you were looking for?”

“I have, thank you, Prince Jaskier. And thank you, Countess, for your aid, this one should do the trick.”

“Princess, I have been looking all over for you, your presence is requested by your mother,” Stregobor, the chief advisor, chides. He stops next to Jaskier and glances down at her lip for a second before looking at Tissaia. 

Fuck.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ykno i thot abt if yennefer would ask tissaia what she talked to the king abt but realistically she's still just tryna get in her pants, don't tell me u wouldn't do the same


	3. what have you done, what have you done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took a while, i've been struggling with writer's block and just. figuring out how i want all this to work. comments/thoughts are appreciated <3

*

When they were nine, Yennefer nearly bit off an entire chunk of Jaskier’s arm. 

He cried, and then he cried more when Yennefer called him a little bitch for it. 

“Imagine if it had been your pisser,” Yennefer said later as they dangled their feet off the tree branch they sat upon — Yennefer still bitter that he had mocked her for her hunched posture, Jaskier nursing a freshly bandaged arm. He would be in Vengerberg for a week, in celebration of her mother’s remarriage. He didn’t apologize, so neither did she, but they sat together there on the tree, watching squirrels scamper up and down the trunk, Yennefer idly throwing acorns at them and missing. 

The court physicians told her she would likely need to undergo surgery, and she definitely needed to wear a quite painful and very ugly contraption to help straighten out her spine. She didn’t tell any of this to Jaskier, especially not after she bit him over it. The young prince was more prone to having a good laugh than outwardly sympathizing, much like herself.

“And why would your crummy mouth anywhere near it?” the boy grumbled in reply, still pulling a pained face at the thought.

“Because you’re a dick,” she shrugged, like that made all the sense in the world.

“Yeah, well, you’re a cunt.”

She pushed him off the tree.

*

Their relationship carried on much the same throughout the years. Always banter, a fair amount of fighting, sometimes a bit of bloodshed, but nothing more than a bit of torn skin and a broken bone or two. They grew older, visiting each others’ kingdoms several times a year as royal alliances and family duties demanded. They learned how friendship was supposed to work, if marginally so. Yennefer’s hunched back was gradually alleviated, her posture more becoming of an heiress, but her smart mouth grew ever stronger. Jaskier’s insults only became more colorful, though he eventually learned at what times he should be more sensitive. And so, the two grew to be close friends. Despite the constant bickering and oft plans to undermine the other, they knew each other well.

And never has Yennefer been more thankful for their friendship than in this moment.

“Well, I should be on my way,” Yennefer says as she makes her way to the library door, not once glancing at Tissaia behind her as she meets Stregobor's gaze. As she passes Jaskier, she raises a hand to his ear and gives a yank, just hard enough for him to get the idea.

“Ow, ow, _ow_!”

“That’s for socking me in the mouth earlier,” she says, praying he takes the hint and rolls with it.

“It was an _accident_ , my gods,” he moans, clutching his ear theatrically as she departs. “I said sorry already, why are you so vengeful? I even offered to kiss it better, what more do you ask of me?”

“I’d rather kiss shit,” she calls as she walks away without a backward glance. She hopes, she _trusts_ Jaskier will be able to assuage the fears Tissaia undoubtedly has now after they were nearly discovered by her step-father’s right hand twat. And also that he can convince Tissaia to agree to another meeting for them in the future. 

Friends are _so_ useful.

*

“Mother,” Yennefer declares more than greets as she steps into the queen’s chambers. There is only one handmaiden busying herself in the room, and she is soon dismissed after Yennefer’s arrival. Ah. So it is a private kind of meeting. 

“Yennefer, darling,” her mother says in response, patting the spot next to her on the couch. “Come, sit.”

She approaches, sits on the winged armchair across from her. The queen frowns, but Yennefer pretends not to notice, instead folding her hands neatly in her lap and raising her eyebrows in mild impatience.

“What’s this I hear about you carousing with that Aretuza woman?” her mother says.

Already? “Largely exaggerated rumors, I’m afraid. I have yet to even hold her hand,” the princess lies.

“Hmm,” her mother hums. “Your betrothed will arrive tomorrow, I expect you to be on your best behavior for him.”

“Of course.”

“No, not of course,” her mother says with narrowed eyes. “I tell you to behave and every time I have to hear about another one of your unholy escapades. It’s not becoming, not while your husband-to-be is under the same roof. Please, at the very least wait until he leaves this time to take someone else to bed.”

“Can I take them to Geralt’s bed with me then?” Yennefer cannot resist herself.

“Enough already,” the queen rubs her temples. “This is not why I’ve called you here. Owen is acting oddly.”

The mere mention of her step-father’s name makes Yennefer bristle. She works her jaw. “What makes you say this?”

Yennefer has never been fond of her step-father. From the moment she laid eyes on him, she found him to be a despicable man, with hateful eyes and scruffy beard. But it had been a marriage of necessity; Vengerberg was in need of alliances. She knows he’d tried for years to have a child of his own, but Yennefer’s mother was thankfully too smart for that. She’d made sure not to bear again.

“The Aretuza woman — ” her mother begins.

Yennefer interrupts before she can think better of it, “Countess de Vries.”

“Yes, she,” her mother says with a raised eyebrow and cocked head. “She met with Owen earlier today.”

She tamps down the urge to say _I know_ , instead affecting a look of surprise. “And?”

“I don’t know. I’ve attempted to learn the details of the meeting in vain. But his behavior is different since. He is on edge.”

Yennefer frowns. She initially thought Tissaia was a curious woman, but the mystery around her grows ever larger. What had they discussed?

“She has refused me, because she is unmarried,” Yennefer confides, despite herself. 

Her mother raises both eyebrows now, clearly shocked. “That’s new. How interesting,” she muses. “What more do you know of this countess?”

“Nothing,” Yennefer shakes her head. “She is incredibly private. Only that she thinks there are people who will discredit her character if she so much as kisses me.”

“An unwed woman,” the queen murmurs thoughtfully. “Right, then. I will try to uncover more information. Off with you, and no fondling countesses.”

The princess rises and rolls her eyes. “Not like I could if I wanted.”

“My dear, I have known very little to stop you when you put your headstrong mind to it. Please do be wary, I don’t like this.”

Yennefer bids her good night. 

*

  
  


Jaskier is waiting for her in her chambers when she walks in. And he is not alone. 

“My, my, I am indeed flattered, but I’m not so sure I’m interested in a threesome. Don’t really want to share, and all that,” Yennefer says with a playful grin, but regretfully, the look on their faces says her visitors are not here for play.

“I’m not here to sleep with you,” Tissaia says brusquely.

“And I’m definitely not letting my manly bits anywhere near your lady bits,” Jaskier assures her from his perch upon her vanity, receiving a mildly scandalized look from Tissaia. 

“Fine then,” Yennefer sighs dramatically as she throws herself down onto her bed, “To what do I owe this unexpected, less than fun gathering in my chambers?”

“I need your help,” Tissaia says, and Yennefer picks her head up to peer at the older woman in surprise. “Don’t look at me like that,” she admonishes, and Yennefer, in a wonderful demonstration of how well she obeys orders, only raises her eyebrows higher. “I would rather not have to resort to this, but I have no other options left to me.” Yennefer props herself up on her elbows now. “My audience with the king did not quite go the way I’d hoped,” she confesses. “I need you to help me find another opportunity to speak with him.”

“What went wrong?” Yennefer inquires, pushing her luck. But it’s only fair, she is being asked a favor, she should at least know _why_.

Tissaia’s lips press into a thin line and she looks away from Yennefer. “The king would not hear me out. I’d barely spoken a few words before his advisor sent me away.”

“Which advisor?” Yennefer sits up fully, jaw ticking. She has her suspicion, but she needs to know.

“The same that came into the library, looking for you.”

“Stregobor,” Jaskier says as Yennefer snarls. 

“So that’s him then. The sleazy look suits him well,” Tissaia remarks dryly.

Jaskier and Yennefer both give a start then, with the former asking, “You know of him?”

“We have had correspondence,” she says simply, and nothing further. 

Gods, she hopes it’s not _that_ kind of correspondence. She and Jaskier share a look, both clearly thinking the same thing. Tissaia catches it and affects a disgusted look. 

“Obviously not that sort,” she amends. “He is the one who has been increasing dues from Aretuza, as well as denying my request for armed men to protect our lands.”

“Dues have been increased everywhere,” Yennefer says with a slow nod, then sneers, “There’s rumor of financial trouble, yet no shortage of food, drink and ostentatious display at this week long banquet.” She rises from the bed, begins to take off her jewelry, shooing Jaskier off of her vanity. He settles instead on Yennefer’s bed and props his feet upon one of the posts. 

“Vengerberg, always putting on a pretty show despite the shit hiding within,” Jaskier says, arms folded behind his head, and it’s nothing Yennefer hasn’t said herself. They’ve discussed her hatred for how things have been run in the kingdom. How there is no end to the changes she will implement once she ascends to the throne. 

In a couple decades or so.

“I could just talk to my step-father myself and sort it for you, if you tell me what you need,” Yennefer offers, because it might be far easier that way.

“Unfortunately not,” Tissaia says as she shakes her head. “It would be questionable coming from you. I must speak with him myself.”

“Do you think Stregobor is up to something, Yen?” Jaskier asks.

“Without a doubt. But what? And why? He’s tight lipped as ever, he’s avoided me until this…,” she trails off in thought. It’s true, she’s barely seen him at all, as he has caught on to Yennefer’s shrewdness and has often gone out of his way to hold discussions out of her earshot. She’s been quite grateful for the distinct lack of his face. But this week, he has been everywhere. She has noticed him at almost every turn, and until now she has brushed it off as an unfortunate timing coinciding with the banquet. And yet —

“He had no reason to play messenger and fetch me for my mother,” Yennefer muses. “He himself has said it before, ‘I am the chief _advisor_ , not a common court courier,’” she mocks in an impressive imitation that makes Jaskier guffaw and even has Tissaia cracking a smile. 

“He’s watching you,” Yennefer says to Tissaia then in sudden realization. 

“It would appear that way, yes,” Tissaia affirms. “And he is not the only one. The only way I managed to get here unnoticed is through Jaskier and his thorough knowledge of secret passageways. I am constantly under observation, have you not noticed?” 

“I’m the Crown Princess, I’m always being looked at,” Yennefer shrugs, but in reality, she is a bit embarrassed at her lack of awareness. Strike two against the big dumb princess, yet to prove her prowess in bed. “So I’m not the only one with my eyes on you, then. I might have to up my game.”

“Please. Do not do that,” Tissaia glares at Yennefer, who can’t resist the sly grin that grows upon her lips, and she begins to deftly unlace the knot of the ties on her own gown. She has to prepare for bed, after all. The countess looks away. Is that a bit of color on her cheeks? Delightful. “That’s the complete opposite of what I need, with half the palace already watching our every move now.”

“Well, perhaps you could tell me more about what you do need?” Shameless. She is completely shameless, and she relishes the darkening shade upon the woman’s chiseled cheeks. She tugs the strings of her dress loose.

Jaskier pipes up, “Yes, but perhaps when I’m no longer here, hmm?” 

“You’re free to leave, Jask, by all means,” Yennefer says, eyes never leaving Tissaia’s face, who is stubbornly refusing to look at her, whose spine has gone rigid and hands have clasped in front of her rather tightly.

“Ah but then who will show the good countess the way back to her rooms?”

“And who says she even needs to find her way back to her rooms tonight?”

“I say,” Tissaia huffs, crossing her arms across her chest. “I will not endanger my position I’ve toiled years to maintain for a single night of wanton pleasure.”

“We can make it double, if it suits. Triple, even.”

Jaskier is shaking his head in amusement.

“Enough!” Tissaia’s voice is sharp and stern and holy Melitele’s tits did that do something to Yennefer’s insides. The countess fixes her narrowed eyes on Yennefer. “Will you help me, yes or no?” she asks brusquely, but Yennefer is suddenly transported to thoughts that involve the countess’ steely voice in a completely different context, can’t help biting down on her lip, and she watches as Tissaia’s eyes are attracted by the motion despite herself. 

Yennefer presses, “Will I get something in return?” If she stood closer to Tissaia perhaps she’d have gotten slapped at this point. Perhaps more than once. 

“I do not trade sex for favors, Your Highness,” the countess says coolly.

“No, you are right, of course not,” Yennefer corrects herself. “You can have both independently.” She smiles, and Tissaia sighs in exasperation. 

“I am not going to sleep with you,” she says with a note of finality. 

“Yet,” Jaskier adds, earning yet another scathing look from Tissaia and a smirk from Yennefer. Yes. _Yet_.

Hm. “What about helping me out of my dress?” Yennefer asks cheekily.

The blush is back in full force. “No.”

“Fine,” Yennefer says and she heaves out a breath very dramatically. “If I help you, then I will reserve my _completely_ non-sexual favor for another time.” Tissaia looks at her skeptically for a moment before she nods. “We will figure something out, then,” she continues, now with a genuine smile that she hopes is a small comfort to the countess in spite of all the distress she has clearly caused her. 

“I should be off to my room,” Tissaia says. Jaskier takes the cue and hops off of the bed, moving to the wall where a hidden door is concealed. It will lead to the tight, winding passageways that they used to traverse as children, spying on the goings on of the palace from inside the walls whenever he came to visit. 

And it would surely be a waste if Yennefer had her in her rooms and did not at least try, and so she gambles. “Might I at least get a kiss goodnight?” 

Tissaia’s face goes blank, and Yennefer is about to retract it, laugh it off, before she sees Tissaia give the tiniest nod, as if she’s unsure of herself. Yennefer’s heart soars. It thuds against her ribs.

“I’ll just be waiting in here, then, good night Yen!” Jaskier says hastily as he retreats into the passageway and shuts the door behind him. Thank the gods.

They stare at each other for a moment, and the air grows heavy, so heavy. She has to draw in a breath before she takes a step forward. Yennefer approaches Tissaia slowly, with caution, as one would a scared animal. Careful not to make any unpredictable movements lest she spook her away. Stands before her, is not for the first time struck with the difference in their height as she puts a gentle hand underneath the woman’s chin to tilt her face upwards even as she bends her own down.

The moment their lips touch is like lightning.

It starts off as a spark, a mere press of the lips that, simple though it is, feels like a bolt in her soul. 

And then, it shifts. Tissaia is small but she is _strong_ , Yennefer notes as she feels the woman grip the front of her dress and tug her further down, closer, until there’s no space between them. Until she has Yennefer mewling against her. Their lips glide along each other, and Yennefer nibbles down on Tissaia’s lower lip, careful not to bite down too hard, and she opens up with an inhale. Yennefer slips her tongue in, swipes deliciously over Tissaia’s own. She finds herself losing the lead very easily, and she gives it up eagerly.

Yennefer’s head is spinning, her hands clinging desperately onto the woman before her to ground her. Tissaia is such a whirlwind, at once both reserved and intense, and she’s awakening all sorts of feelings within Yennefer. 

A hand splays out on her back, then finds its way through the loosened layers to her bare skin and she shivers, moaning quietly as it sears along her spine. But then it’s gone, and instead presses against Yennefer’s chest, pushing lightly, even as Yennefer pants, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the other woman’s hand.

“Good night, Yennefer,” Tissaia breathes out against her lips. And then she’s leaving swiftly, closing the door in the wall softly behind her.

It’s only when she’s laying in her bed, lights long gone out, still tracing fingers over her lips, that she realizes she’d used her name. 

_Yennefer_.

She lets it echo again and again in her mind. She’s never felt such a jolt as she feels when she thinks of Tissaia’s mouth forming the syllables, her tongue curling over her name like it curled in her mouth.

Oh, what has she gotten herself into?

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> she's in deep deep now


End file.
